


i sing to the wind on monday and hope it will bring you back by friday

by softvoice



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Body Horror-lite, Cats, Christmas Dinner, Fantasy elements, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Tenderness, Winter, minho feels emotions in some other kind of way, mountain cottages as a metaphor for wanting to devour the ones you love, sorry for posting this in march my bad, the author's hand kink is through the roof in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-23 12:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30055377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softvoice/pseuds/softvoice
Summary: Christmas is meant to be spent with the ones you love, but, this year, Minho finds himself alone in the mountains as Jisung works himself away in the village. He's not selfish; he knows Jisung is doing a damn good thing to be giving pottery lessons to the orphanage children in what's supposed to be his time off, but he feels himself longing, spending the week leading up to his favourite holiday yearning for his boyfriend's body curled up next to him instead of the cold patch he wakes up to each morning. Thus, he seeks to find a way toreallywelcome Jisung home.--In which Minho cooks Christmas dinner.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 9
Kudos: 121





	i sing to the wind on monday and hope it will bring you back by friday

**Author's Note:**

> so funny story i meant to post this over christmas and then i didn't. oops. from the bottom of my heart, my bad. while i'm formatting this, i'm treating my english lecture like a podcast. do with that what you will.
> 
> → i began writing this because i had finished high school and was in the pits listening the [phoebe bridgers cover of friday i'm in love by the cure](https://youtu.be/I5IHmwn6aGE). _it's such a gorgeous sight to see you eat in the middle of the night_. it made me feel things. that's all.  
> → other influences are from my hyperfixation on dark cottagecore, weird body horror metaphors, and [the two headed calf by laura gilpin](https://rolfpotts.com/two-headed-calf-by-laura-gilpin/). this is about me. i do believe i'm sexy like that.
> 
> **cw:** nsfw, food, body horror lite in the form of weird metaphors

“Do you need a hand with that?”

“As much as I love your hands, I’d prefer they stay clear of the mud, Minho.” Jisung continues brushing the dirt off of his heavy mountain boots after sending a soft smile over his shoulder. Minho wonders if the brick of the porch steps are as cold as they were that morning when he’d stepped outside to collect the paper.

He huffs gently. “I’ll put the kettle on, then.”

“English breakfast, please.”

“I know what to do, Jisung.” Minho doesn’t mean to sound dismissive as pads through the hallway and into the kitchen. He doesn’t mean to be like this, especially when Jisung is home. 

The kettle, round and slowly heating, rests invitingly on the gas stove. Minho tries not to glance at the chipped paint on the lid as he drops sugar into their mugs. Maybe, if he manifests hard enough while stirring the tea, Jisung won’t have to leave and he won’t be alone the week before Christmas.

It’s never worked before and he really does doubt it will now, but it’s worth the shot. Seven stirs clockwise, four anti-clockwise. Whispered love in the brew. At least the tea will speak to Jisung’s cold bones.

The steam curls over Minho’s hands, over the too-long sleeves of his sweater, bunched messily around his wrists. He stares at it for too long — long enough for Jisung to come looking for him, finding him with both mugs in his hands and gazing into the tea as though waiting for answers.

Minho isn’t sure what the answer is.

“Hey honey.” Jisung gently coaxes the mugs out of his hands and sits them down with a soft _click_ on the counter. “You alright there?”

Jisung is always so calm with him, even now, tension high in the air at Minho’s obvious distaste towards the trip Jisung has to take when he should be at home. His hands envelope Minho’s own. It’ll bring him back.

It always does.

When Minho snaps out of his daze, he’s tucked into Jisung’s side and the fire is roaring in front of them. Jisung is reading aloud, a children’s book of Christmas stories. He wishes he could stay here forever. 

Jisung seems to notice the shift in his consciousness and pauses his re-enactment of the good witch — _The Legend of Old Befana,_ Minho guesses. He sets the book down on the coffee table and cards a hand through Minho’s hair. “You feeling better, love?”

Minho hates that he makes Jisung worry, especially the night before he sets off to the station for a week in the village. Despite how much as it pains him to feel the concern he causes, he knows that Jisung will always be able to tell when he’s lying. 

“Sorry, just floated off, I guess.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Jisung says firmly. “I promise I’ll be back on Friday.”

Minho sighs. “Friday is Christmas.”

“I know, love.” The pause is heavy. “The kids need me, their works aren’t all fired and as much as I’d love nothing more than to be here with you, I can’t let them down.”

Wanting Jisung to stay feels more selfish than Minho can rationalise, especially considering that he’s only working extra shifts during the holidays so the orphanage children can build something in clay for their Secret Santa exchange. Minho will just have to tide himself over while he awaits Jisung’s return and their long awaited rest together.

He reaches for Jisung’s face, cupping his cheek. “I’m so proud of you,” he says. “I’m sorry I’ve been bitter about you not being here.”

Jisung turns his face to press a kiss to Minho’s palm. “I’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”

Minho is always blown away with the love Jisung holds in his eyes. The fireplace reflects against his irises and Minho may as well be eating his own heart and stringing his lungs on the wall with how he aches to keep Jisung to himself forever. Another selfish thought. Indulgent. He doesn’t force it away as they fold the blanket and move towards their bedroom, not when they’re so close he feels like nothing will ever change.

With the way Jisung leaves himself all over Minho’s body — the curve of his neck and shoulder, the backs of his thighs, his stomach — it’s not hard to remember why being in love with him feels like being set on fire. The pads of his fingers shouldn’t etch his touch into Minho’s skin but they _do._ He likes to think of it as a promise as he gasps his name like a prayer. It’s bone-crushing.

Whispered love into the space between them tells Minho that each beginning holds within it an end, and maybe the end of this week will be brought on as soon as it begins.

He hopes.

\---

The first day Jisung is gone sees Minho on the trail. He likes to get out when he’s alone and remind himself why he lives on the mountain, only venturing into the village for the weekly market. There hasn’t been a market since November and he’s lived well on the earnings of his varied preserves and baked goods, leaving him mostly in isolation in the valley.

He takes his basket with him to collect wild herbs. Some for drying, he’ll bottle them for a later day and keep the fresher ones for Christmas dinner. There’s a rosemary bush outside the bedroom window that will do just fine if he needs a sprig or two extra.

The house isn’t really decorated. It’s not that he’s planning on putting a tree up, but the chill in the air signals orange season. He’ll have to head into town to get a bag if he wants to bake slices for his homemade ornaments. Not that he’s planning on putting up a tree. There’s no need for one when he’s alone all week.

A rustle in the greenery next to the path stops him in his tracks. Most animals are usually in hibernation around this time of year, especially those small enough to be crawling through the underbrush.

After a moment of hesitation, Minho continues walking. About to pluck from the bush of wild thyme, a twig snaps next to him and he freezes, setting his basket down and tugging his cloak tighter around himself. He takes a tentative step in the direction of the noise, a low hanging pine branch hiding whatever seems to have taken a shine to following.

Another step forward has him close enough to the tree to lift the branch. He can feel the snow through his mittens and internally curses his own curiosity, pushing past the bristles to reveal his stalker. 

Oh.

The cat stares up at him with round eyes and ears flattened against its head. It shivers as the wind breaks through its small protection from the tree and backs away from Minho, trying to crawl further into the makeshift hideaway.

“Oh my god,” Minho breathes, crouching down to shield the cat from the draught. “Hi, baby, what are you doing out here?”

The cat’s ears perk up at the gentle tone, taking a timid step towards his outstretched hand. Minho clicks his tongue, carefully reaching to bring the cat forward. “Are you gonna let me pick you up, honey?”

His cottage isn’t too far, he’ll be able to hold the cat under his cloak and collect more herbs later. This is suddenly far more important than the plans for dinner on Friday.

He crouches in wait as the cat inches close enough for him to pick it up and tuck it against his chest. Beyond an indignant mewl, the cat puts up very little fight as Minho soothes it with a gentle voice, settling into the warmth of his cloak.

“There we go,” he says, picking up his forgotten basket. “Let’s go home now, yeah?”

The cat — dubbed Soonie after a warm bath and a bowl of tinned tuna — makes himself what could be seen as far too comfortable for something that, less than an hour ago, was crawling in the underbrush in the freezing pine forest. Not that Minho minds; it’s strangely comforting to have some company in the cottage.

He’d never found his space to be particularly large, but it’s rather lonely when Jisung leaves him on his own.

Jisung. How the fuck is he going to explain this one?

This isn’t his first venture into taking in strays, but a cat — a very comfortable cat — seems to be a bit more of a permanent fixture than a bird with a broken wing or the frogs in the back pond. It’s not even like Jisung will care that much; he is a cat person, after all, but Minho doesn’t want to spring Soonie on him without any prior warning.

He’ll have to take Soonie with him on Wednesday to the village.

The planned trip will be short, just to collect a bag of oranges and some supplies for Christmas dinner, but he was also planning on visiting Jisung in his workshop after the classes. Curse his boyfriend for knowing him so well, knowing he’d miss him way too much and clearing an afternoon for them to spend together, even if it’s in the studio.

“You’ll get to meet Jisungie, Soonie,” he mumbles, peering down at the cat that has taken up residence with his head on Minho’s thigh. “He’s going to love you.”

\---

The trek to the village requires heavy boots to get down the mountain safely, and while Minho knows this, he makes the trip way too often — though not as often as Jisung — to not know. A good pair of boots should last years.

Jisung bought them for him last Christmas.

It’s quite silly, the thought of the citrine stones sewn securely into the ankle as Jisung’s way of blessing him and preventing falls, but Minho appreciates it all the same. They have yet to fail him and while he may be able to attribute that to the mountains watching over them, he’d always believe in Jisung first.

The trail down the mountain is rockier than the one through the forest. He doesn’t mind, really, not with his grocery bags sitting in his back pocket and Soonie sitting comfortably in a makeshift sling across his torso. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Minho would let him walk on the snow and the rocks (and maybe he didn’t quite trust his new friend enough to allow him to roam free in the mountains so soon after finding him).

It’s just better that he keeps Soonie tucked away from the cold.

After an hour of walking, Minho finds himself at the village entrance. He understands why Jisung insists on hiking to the train instead of making the long trek entirely on foot, but trains aren’t Minho’s thing, no matter how cold his hands get.

The streets are rather busy for a weekday, but he attunes it to the holidays getting everyone in the mood for a good rest. He loves the familiarity of the people who live here. Sometimes he wishes he’d chosen the small town route instead of turning to the sanctity of how tiny he feels with the mountains looming above him.

Small town life may be comfortable, but the safety of solitude and protection gained holds Minho in a place he could never see himself having the desire to leave. 

And besides, he made himself a place for Jisung to come back to. 

“Minho-hyung!” There’s someone jogging towards him with a bright red coat on and a scarf pulled right up to his nose. He wouldn’t have recognised Hyunjin if not for the mane of blonde hair blown out behind him.

“Careful, Hyunjin, you’ll trip.” He opens his cloak to warn his friend against an embrace should he want to avoid a very disgruntled Soonie pressed between them. “How are you?”

Hyunjin isn’t paying attention to him, leaning down to scratch under a willing Soonie’s chin. “You are a baby, aren’t you?” he coos. “When did you get this absolute darling?”

“Monday,” Minho replies. “Found him in the forest on his own. I’m taking him to meet Jisung.”

“Oh, he’ll be so happy to see you.” He addresses Soonie, but Minho knows it applies just as much to himself, if not more. “Sungie needs a pick-me-up, I won’t keep you long.”

Minho laughs. “He can hold off for a few more minutes, I haven’t seen you in ages.” Hyunjin’s hair is longer, roots showing where the blonde has grown out. “How have you been? How’s Jeongin?”

“Well, we’re both well, thank you, hyung.” Hyunjin grabs Minho’s hand. “You should come see him, come to our New Year’s dinner.”

“I’ll be there,” he says. “You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

Hyunjin smiles. “Good, I can’t wait.” He leans down to press a kiss to the top of Soonie’s head. “You look after this one, won’t you?” his voice always takes on an animated quality when speaking to anything little, such as animals and small children. “I can’t keep my eye on him all the time, so I’m trusting you.”

Minho rolls his eyes good-naturedly and squeezes Hyunjin’s hand. “Send me the details for the dinner, I’ll let Jisung know.”

“I will. Do tell Jisung to bring more of that herbal tea he makes so well? Jeongin’s almost sleeping through the night again, you two are miracle workers.”

“Will do, Jinnie.” Minho smiles. It’s not every day that he and Jisung get to see the results of their work. “Send my love to everyone, I’ll see you next week?”

“Always.” Hyunjin wraps his arms around Minho’s shoulder in a side hug, careful to avoid disturbing Soonie. “Now go see your boy.”

Minho sets off again after parting with Hyunjin. He’ll get the oranges first and then head to Jisung’s workshop. Small kindnesses to himself include maximising their time together and making sure he’s got steaming hot chocolate to share when he arrives.

The market is, as expected, rather packed. It’s not the one he and Jisung usually sell at, but the fresh food is just as good. He takes a deep breath and steps into the crowd, tucking Soonie closer with one hand and clenching the other into a fist. He can do this.

Minho picks out a bag of eight oranges and places it at the bottom of his shopping bag. The fresh bread smells incredible and he buys a loaf for lunch at the workshop, picking out a jar of lavender honey to eat it with. He’ll make his own bread for their Christmas dinner, but there’s no harm in treating Jisung to a warm lunch while he’s here.

Next on his list is hot chocolate from the vendor on the end of the street. He doesn’t spend long in line, choosing to support the friendly woman in the cold stall as opposed to filing into the café with the majority of the crowd. She’s nicer, anyway. Minho wishes her well with two disposable cups warming his hands and his basket looped over his elbow.

Finally— _finally—_ it’s time to find Jisung.

He knows the route to the workshop like the back of Jisung’s hand. It’s simpler to fixate on his boyfriend’s bone structure and vein patterns than how he yearns for longer fingers; if for nothing more than to one-up Jisung whenever he insists on measuring their hand sizes.

Unfortunately for Minho, his hands fail to show magical growth when Jisung diligently presses their palms together and claims victory. It’s hardly fair, really.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he almost passes the tall wooden door when he happens upon Jisung’s studio. Almost. Soonie wriggles against him as though he knows where they’re heading and snaps Minho out of his own head. He’ll get the chance to trace Jisung’s knuckles with his thumb again after what feels like months of distance. He’s always been one for dramatics.

“Jisungie?” he calls, letting the door shut behind him. It’s funny that Jisung’s studio is always a tiny bit chilly. 

The clatter of a stool brings a smile to his face. “Ah shit— Minho, is that you?”

Jisung rounds the corner into the hallway and stops in his tracks, staring at Minho. He glances at the hot chocolate and the basket and the suspiciously large lump under his cloak and sighs fondly. 

“Hi,” Minho breathes, feeling at home with him. He always does.

Jisung breaks his halt and rushes toward him. “Let me help you with that, baby,” he says, taking the hot chocolate from Minho. “Come through, I’ve just started another piece but you can help me.”

Minho follows him down the hallway and to his room. Jisung’s little house in the village allows him to stay whenever he needs to and gives him privacy and functionality for when he’s got students around. He takes Minho over the barrier from the living room turned workshop and into his little bedroom.

The click of the cups on the dressing table has Minho looking up at him. “I’ve got someone for you to meet.”

Jisung tilts his head to one side as Minho sets the basket next to the cups and opens his cloak to reveal Soonie. 

“Oh my God,” Jisung gasps, craning his neck to get a good look at him. “Hi, angel, what’s your name?”

“His name’s Soonie,” Minho says. “I found him in the forest and I…”

“Couldn’t say no?”

“Exactly.”

Jisung straightens up from rubbing his thumb over Soonie’s head. “Let him walk around, I’m sure he’s stiff from the trip here.”

“Good idea.” Minho carefully lifts him from the makeshift sling and drops him to the floor, watching happily as Soonie weaves between Jisung’s ankles and his own. “You go roam around, honey, be good.”

As if on cue, Soonie darts out the bedroom and down the hallway. Minho assumes he’s looking for the warm patch in front of the kiln. When he looks away from the place Soonie’s tail had just been, Jisung’s eyes are on him. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, opening his arms for Minho to fall into. “I missed you so much.”

“We really are dreadful with separation, aren’t we?” 

Jisung hums, pulling Minho’s hood down and pressing a kiss into his hair. “Let’s get you out of this cloak, hmm?”

Minho allows Jisung to undo the tie at the front and slip the coat off of his shoulders. His touch is scorching, so much so that Minho feels as though he’s leaving burns through his clothes, straight into his skin. He shudders at the departure of his cloak leaving him to feel the winter chill even through his layers and Jisung smiles fondly as he pulls his sweater sleeves over his hands. 

“Can I get you something warmer to wear, love?” he asks, not really waiting for an answer as he loops an arm over Minho’s shoulder and guides him to the closet. “This should keep you nice and toasty.”

The hoodie is massive and Minho is already considering asking him to bring it home with him on Friday so he can steal it. The hem falls past his mid-thigh and he’s damn near drowning, but he knows that’s exactly what Jisung likes about seeing him in his clothes.

“Perfect.” He plants a kiss on Jisung’s lips. “Now, let’s go drink our hot chocolate before it gets cold.” Minho leads him to the loveseat by the window and sits him down. “You wait here, I brought lunch, too.”

He finds it adorable that Jisung’s eyes immediately light up at the mention of food. The basket is where he left it and he’s pleasantly surprised when he finds the bread almost as warm as when he’d brought it. The perfect winter meal.

“I got us sourdough,” he says, pulling out the plates from Jisung’s dresser— he loves that there’s always personal cutlery in his room— and sets a thick slice on each plate, “And the most incredible honey. I’m taking the rest home for tea, I think it’ll taste amazing with mint.”

“Oh yeah?” Jisung has his chin in his hand and is gazing at Minho as if he holds the key to the universe. “You’ll have to let me try it out when I’m home.”

Minho smiles softly to himself and sets the plates on the small coffee table. “I’ll make it for you after dinner,” he says. “Get you nice and warm.”

“That sounds amazing.” He bites into the bread and groans as the honey hits his tongue. “Fuck, you weren’t lying, this is incredible.”

Minho loves seeing him eat. “I’m always right, aren’t I?” 

Jisung offers a hum, leaning into Minho’s side and placing all his focus on his lunch. Meals with him are the best, Minho feels as though he’s a high-end cook no matter what he serves — even if it’s ramen or takeout, if Minho put it on the plate, Jisung thinks it’s a masterpiece.

“Do you want to help me with one of my projects later?” Jisung asks, setting his empty plate down and peering up at Minho. “I think it’d turn out better with your touch.”

“You could have just asked to hold my hand, Jisungie,” Minho laughs, lacing their fingers and letting them fall on his thigh. “I’d love to help you, baby, but finish your hot chocolate first.”

He presses closer as they sip from their respective cups. Minho just about finishes his when he feels pressure against his calf.

“Oh!” He’s quick to set his to-go cup on the coffee table and pick Soonie up. “Hello, honey,” he says, holding his cat in front of him like a disgruntled baby. “Did you have a good time scoping out Jisung’s place?”

“Treat the poor man with respect,” Jisung says, reaching to take him from Minho. “I’ll bet you have to put up with a lot, huh?”

Soonie almost immediately settles into Jisung’s lap, kneading his small thighs gently.

“Baby’s making biscuits!” Minho coos. “I can’t wait for you to see how he takes up the entire rug by the fireplace, Sungie, it’s outrageous, I have no idea how he stretches himself that far!”

“You just like being cosy, don’t you, baby?” Jisung directs at Soonie. “You’re like someone else I know.”

Minho blushes and shoves Jisung’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

It’s Jisung’s turn to coo. “My two kitties~” he giggles, lifting a hand to pet Minho’s hair. “You’re so cute.”

“Don't do this now," Minho groans, leaning into Jisung's palm despite his own complaints.

"So you don't like it when I pet you?" Jisung asks, voice smug. "Should I stop, _kitten?"_

"Our child is right here."

Jisung laughs, standing with Soonie in his arms and walking to the entrance. He sets him on the ground and closes the door after him and turns to Minho with a devilish grin. "Better?" 

"I can't believe you're this horny," Minho says, laying back against the pillows of the loveseat. "You haven't seen me for three days at most."

Jisung ignores his teasing. "You think I'm gonna fuck you on this tiny thing?" 

"Well, I don't see why not?"

"Come here," he says, rolling his eyes and opening his arms for Minho to practically throw himself into. His hands immediately go to Minho's thighs, holding him tight through the fabric of his trousers. "And you tried to imply that _I'm_ the eager one."

Minho plants his lips on Jisung's. "Shut up and fuck me already."

"Relax," Jisung says, turning to drop Minho to the mattress. "I'm getting there."

“Get there faster.” Minho can feel himself heating up, already hardening in his pants as Jisung looms over him. 

He laughs, reaching over to the bedside table to pull a bottle of lube from the drawer and a condom. “Like I said; you’re eager.”

Minho keens high in his throat as Jisung runs warm hands under his many, many layers to block out the December cold. He knows Minho likes the route home and burns a path for him to return along again and again.

“I missed you,” he pants into Jisung’s neck, each word broken by his own mewls as Jisung hammers his prostate. “I– _fuck–_ I love you.”

The grip on his hand tightens. “I love you, too.” One rests within his own, the other working his leaking cock in time with each thrust. “Come for me, baby.”

Minho throws his head back with Jisung steadily fucking him through his orgasm. The daze settles over him moments later and oversensitivity kicks in as Jisung chases his own high. He lays limp with use, exhausted and hazy and _happy_. 

Jisung grunts as he fills the condom and falls forward, between Minho’s legs. “You did so well,” he whispers into his skin. “You always make me feel good, love.”

Lifting his tired arms, Minho wraps them around Jisung’s waist and pulls him close. “I love you so much,” he says against his hair. "Let's go clean up, yeah?"

"Stay tonight?" Jisung asks. "You can take the train up in the morning, I don't want you out in the cold."

"Okay, Sungie." Minho places a hand on either side of Jisung's face and lifts it so they're eye-to-eye. "Shower time, yeah?"

"Carry me."

" _You_ just fucked _my_ brains out," Minho laughs, already hooking his hands under Jisung's thighs. It's cute that Jisung gets like this sometimes. Minho wonders if he's getting much sleep with the kiln running through the night.

He affords himself a moment of self-indulgence to consider that Jisung may not sleep as well as usual without him to hold. It's not too outlandish, but he lets the thought wash away with warm water and soap and a tender hand running along the length of his spine.

\---

"What was it you needed my help on, love?"

After their shower, Jisung had bundled Minho up in layers upon layers of clothing to keep him nice and warm. He'd then set him down on the living room couch and dropped a mildly confused Soonie on his lap and set off to make tea.

"Oh!" He leaves the kettle on the stove to approach his pottery wheel. "I'm just throwing a pot but I think it'd be nice if we worked on it together."

"I'm fine to watch you work though." Minho makes a point of staring at Jisung's arms. "You always look so good.”

"Keep it in your pants," Jisung says, rolling his eyes. "If you're staying here, you're helping."

After they drink their tea, Minho watches Jisung wedge the clay on his workbench and sit it on the wheel. Then, once he's sure it's prepared, he beckons for Minho to sit between his legs, back pressed up against his chest. 

It's his favourite way to work, chin hooked over Minho's shoulder and hands enveloping his, even if Minho is messy on the wheel, lacking the finesse and attention to detail. Jisung had tried to teach Minho time and time again, but had found him to be a lost cause. Not that he minds always having to guide him; it's one of his favourite pastimes, especially considering how well Minho follows his instructions and moves with him.

Back at the cottage, they have pots and cups and bowls galore, filling up cabinets and drawers to the point where Jisung had to start selling them in the village to make space. When they'd moved to the mountains, their primary source of income had been Jisung staying in the village for the week to teach classes, whereas now, he gets to stay at home for weeks on end thanks to his little pottery shop. 

Unfortunately for Minho, Jisung hasn't been home for the one week he'd like to cozy up and enjoy the holiday season.

He immediately chides himself.

Minho is an adult. He can handle a little disappointment without ruining the time he does have with his boyfriend.

"Don't pull so hard," Jisung mumbles against his ear. "Quiet that pretty little head of yours, just focus on the clay for now, yeah?"

Of course Jisung can tell when he's falling too deep into thought. He always does.

Minho sighs. "We should make it a milk jug," he says, giving in to the press of Jisung's hand to narrow the neck of the vessel. "It'll be cute."

"Only if we can give it a tulip lip."

"Fine, whatever you want, love."

Jisung’s hands move him so gently and he thinks to their other source of income, their apothecary. By word-of-mouth only, they make custom home remedies and healing out of their cottage, sometimes selling at the monthly market, but mostly sticking to individual customers. Minho knows they draw magic from the mountains, even if it’s not advertised and visible. It’s obvious to anyone who has ever sought out their services.

The holiday season is always a slow time for their craft, although he smiles as he thinks to Jeongin and his insomnia, how the chamomile, mint and lemon rind tea they made him has helped. He thinks of the incantations Jisung cast over the glass jar and is filled with sudden love for him.

Jisung is so _filled_ with love, he’s practically bursting at the seams. 

The hand holding his own dips his thumb into the rim of the vessel, forming their favoured tulip lip. It’s a little wonky in places and Minho knows it won’t go to market, but he smiles at the thought of it sitting on the counter at home.

“I’ll set this aside, yeah?” Jisung says, but makes no move to release Minho from his embrace. Their hands are cold and dirty, but with his back pressed right up against Jisung’s back, they’re sharing warmth. 

Eventually, Jisung cooks them dinner. 

Usually, Minho is the chef in their house, but he never passes up an opportunity to taste Jisung’s pajeon, especially in the middle of winter. They eat by the kiln with Soonie trying to steal bites from their plates, and later curl up in the bed, wrapped around each other. 

Minho is happy to see Jisung falling asleep so easily. With his head set on Minho’s chest, hair fanning out behind him, his breathing is slow and gentle. While it takes a bit longer for sleep to pull Minho to join him, it’s not long before they’re both fast asleep.

\---

Preparing a Christmas dinner takes time.

It's a fact that Minho is well aware of when he folds the bread dough into a perfect sphere and sets it on the bowl to rise. Jisung will be home after six, which means he's got just under nine hours left to prepare his dinner spread in time to have it on the table for him.

He really has outdone himself with this one.

Christmas morning had been uneventful to say the least. Soonie had woken him up way too early and he'd lit the fire before the sun was over the horizon. He'd decided weeks ago that he'd dedicate the day to preparing the meal for when Jisung gets home, so they'll open the presents they got each other in the evening.

Or not, depending on how eager Jisung is to reacquaint himself with Minho's body.

It's a To Be Decided situation, really.

He sets his gift for Jisung on the table next to the fireplace. It's neatly wrapped in fabric and he's not sure it's much, but the small fungi identification book called out to him a couple weeks back, when he was searching through the village bookstore for an appropriate present. They aren't usually big on material gifts, anyway. Not when Minho prepares meals and tea and warm bowls of broth to chase away the cold settling into Jisung's bones when he comes back from gathering.

It's not really their _thing._

Sometimes, Jisung will bring back souvenirs from his village trips. He likes the antique knick-knack store on the corner next to the bakery, especially when he spots a tiny cat statue or the gold locket that now rests against his sternum as he chops vegetables for the stew.

Mostly, though, if he has a gift for Minho, he'll make it himself. One of the perks of having an artistically-inclined, sentimental lover is that he receives gifts _infused_ with care. The embroidered protection talisman above the door is testament to that, keeping Minho safe when Jisung isn't home. His herb and spice jars are all crafted by hand in Jisung's studio and sit on the shelf in the kitchen, waiting to be used.

Minho loves the way they fit against the palm of his hand. They were made to be held.

He'd given Jisung his other gift early. The burnt orange scarf was meant to sit next to the fireplace with his fungi book, but he'd realised that warmth throughout the winter months was more valuable than a holiday surprise. Jisung looks small when he's bundled beneath it.

He shakes away the thoughts of Jisung burrowing his face into the wool as the wind howls outside and busies himself with pouring mushroom stock into the pot. He'll be home soon, and Minho knows how to return warmth to him even when it seems impossible.

When the vegetables begin bubbling in the stock, he tosses in two handfuls of herbs from the garden, washed and waiting. He sets the lid on to reduce and brushes his hands off on his apron.

“What now, Soonie?” he asks, smiling softly as the cat butts up against his knuckles. “Should we start on the potatoes?”

After what seems like an eternity of cooking, he finally sets the last platter down on the dining table. He’s laid the table with the nice cutlery and Jisung’s favourite crockery and now all he has to do is wait. 

The sun is kissing the horizon as he looks out the window, busying himself with the dishes while he patiently awaits Jisung’s arrival. He knows it’ll be after dark, what with the trek from the station and up the pass, but he can’t keep himself from yearning to see the crown of his head and hear the firm step of his boots as he hurries towards the cottage.

It _is_ Christmas, after all, he’d say he’s allowed to wonder when he’ll finally have Jisung in his arms again.

He returns to the living room to add another log to the fire. Slowly, it’s been warming the cottage all day, so the walls radiate it’s heat, sinking deep into the foundations of the house. There’s a storm on the way; the lack of birds outside the window when he woke made it obvious that waiting it out was the choice method of most of the mountain animals. He’ll have to remind himself to keep Soonie inside until it passes.

The log catches, and he’s about to go back to gazing out the window facing the path, but he’s interrupted by the door rattling.

“Minho?” a voice calls, muffled by the barrier. “Let me in, love, it’s freezing out here.”

He feels a smile blooming on his face as he rushes to the foyer. “Hold on, I’m unlocking.” The rusted lock takes a moment to give when Minho turns the key and he feels a frustrated growl building up in his chest before it turns.

Jisung has snow on his shoulders and his nose is pink where it peaks over his scarf. Minho can’t see his smile, but his eyes shine when they take him in, bundled in a massive sweater with a blanket around his frame and Jisung looks ready to cry.

“Get inside, you’re letting in all the cold air,” Minho says, stepping aside and pulling Jisung over the boundary by his elbow. "You can hug me just now, when you're not letting winter into our house."

Jisung laughs and lets Minho shove him inside, setting his satchel on the hallway table and watching Minho fumble with the locks on the door. "Hey, relax, we can always warm the house up again.

Minho manages to slide the last lock in place and smiles to himself. He doesn't need the warmth of the house with the warmth blooming in his chest, what with Jisung's voice being home, feeling like home. He turns to him, leaning back against the door and taking him in in all his wind-ruffled, cold-pinked glory.

In this moment, Jisung looks like everything Minho could ever hope for.

"Merry Christmas, my love," Jisung says. He's taken his coat and shoes off, now, and hung up his scarf. Tentative foot in front of the other, he approaches Minho and wraps his arms around him. "I missed you so much."

Minho's eyes prick as he inhales Jisung's sandalwood conditioner, pushing tears away, pulling him closer. "I missed you, too."

There's something trying to push between them and Jisung giggles, pulling away from Minho and leaning down to take Soonie into his arms. "Hi, you," he mumbles, cooing at the way Soonie rests his head on Jisung's shoulder. "Did you miss me?"

"He didn't, he loves me more."

"We'll see about that." Jisung takes off down towards the living room seeking the heat of the fire and a place to set Soonie down that won't leave him disgruntled.

Minho doesn't notice him stop just past the doorway and bumps into his back. "Hey, you're blocking the—"

"Did you do all of this?" 

Jisung's voice is watery as he turns to Minho. Soonie doesn't quite like the change of pace and leaps out of his arms, padding out of sight. 

"It's no big deal, you've been working all week and I wanted to—"

He's cut off by Jisung's lips on his own, his hands on his cheeks; still slightly cold but thawing steadily against Minho's skin as he tries to breathe him in, tries to absorb him into himself. 

"I love you," Jisung says against his mouth. "You're everything— _God_ , I don't know what to do with myself."

Minho pulls back and rests his forehead against Jisung's, hands finding their place at his waist. "I love you, too, love, you know that."

"Of course, I do." Jisung looks him in the eye like he's the only thing in his sky. "Let's eat before it all gets cold, yeah?"

"I'm sure you're starving after the trip." Jisung's stomach growls pointedly and Minho has to stifle his laughter at the look on his face. "Come, it's still hot."

They sit across from each other at the round table, Jisung trying to pretend he's not poking at Minho's ankle with his toe when he asks for the potatoes. "This is incredible— did you cook them with sage butter?"

Minho nods with a small smile. Jisung is always so tuned-in to the world around him, his senses as sharp as the knife he uses to slice the bread and gently place a piece on each of their plates. "Are they soft enough?"

"They're perfect, love," he says through a mouthful of food. "You've outdone yourself."

"Don't be gross, Jisung," Minho laughs. There's no bite to it, the scolding hardly even a habit. He'll have to excuse him for now. 

Many overenthusiastic groans and knocked feet under the table later, Minho begins clearing the table. Jisung finished his food in record time, citing his "starved body" from a week away from home. He's exhausted after the hike back and Minho has half the mind to send him straight to bed, only halted by the whine of indignance when he tries to shuffle him out of the kitchen.

"You've already done so much, baby," Jisung says with a hand resting against Minho's jawline. "Let me clean up?"

"Absolutely not," Minho scoffs. "Go cuddle Soonie by the fire— you can wait for me, can't you?"

Jisung rolls his eyes, sighing in defeat. "Fine, but don't get all whiny when he's in your spot."

"Don't miss me too much." 

He's fine with not sitting in Jisung's lap, so long as he's as far away from the kitchen as possible while he stacks the dishes in the drying rack. If he listens closely, he can hear Jisung cooing at Soonie, probably cradling their long-suffering cat like a fluffy, orange baby. He bites back a soft smile.

"You really didn't have to do all this for me," Jisung says into his hair. "But thank you."

"I know," Minho responds. They're curled up together on one armchair, forgoing the couch and wrapping themselves around each other. "Merry Christmas."

He feels a kiss pressed to the crown of his head and pushes closer into the crook of Jisung's neck. Tomorrow, they'll open presents and Minho will feel warmth trying to push itself out of his chest, but tonight, tonight he is alive, and even though he knows if he were to die now, he'd die in the arms of the man he loves with everything in him, he knows it’d be something he’d tear his own heart out to continue feeling for the rest of his life.

It's enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/linohjs) or send me something nice in my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/lmhjs).
> 
> drop a comment or kudos if you liked this, or just think about me forever. i am an angry god.


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